We Still Need Big Cars

Because sometimes we want more than a tiny, hyperefficient, sleepy hybrid. Because the 2011 Dodge Charger is everything a big, brash American car should be.

There's a great moment in the Coen brothers film O Brother, Where Art Thou? in which John Goodman, an elephant of a man, wallops George Clooney with a tree branch and robs him blind. Clooney doesn't see the swing coming, but it vindicates what everyone watching knows but doesn't always appreciate: Big people can start some serious shit.

It's the same with cars. Big guys express unspoken things small guys can't, and big cars work in ways small ones can't. Not thrilled about the current push toward smaller, ego-shrinking wheels? Need real trunk space? You're not alone. There's a revolt against tiny brewing, and the two-ton Dodge Charger is the tip of the spear.

On the surface, the 2011 Charger is an unfashionable beast, a brash machine from long-struggling American car company Chrysler (two government bailouts in 30 years, currently controlled by Fiat). The Charger is new this year, though not completely — its underpinnings mirror those of the last Charger, which in turn borrowed bits from older Mercedes-Benz sedans. But the brawny retro styling and rock-solid interior are fresh, as is a retuned suspension, which makes the Dodge a new car in every way that matters.

Dodge is Chrysler's sporting division, its cocky, bare-knuckle warrior brand. When Fiat announced it was revamping the Charger and its mechanical twin, the Chrysler 300, for 2011, everyone assumed the Italians would do the hip thing and make the Dodge feel more European, i.e., smaller. They didn't. Like the last Charger, the new one is a city block on wheels, an interstate steamroller for five full-grown men. It drives like Europe and Asia insist cars shouldn't — lane-straddling, bristling with inertia — but somehow it works. The Dodge won't inhale a mountain road like a BMW or an Infiniti, but it chews up distance with an effortless lope that neither can manage. If you are a normal human being, you'll take the rear-wheel drive and standard 292-hp V-6 (26 mpg estimated; $25,995) and be perfectly happy. If you own 23 pairs of dark sunglasses and listen to a lot of Sinatra, you'll order the 370-hp V-8 (25 mpg estimated; $33,145) with all-wheel drive and haunt stoplights for street-racing rubes. Either way, you'll spend a lot of time wondering how the planet — and optional 20-inch wheels — got so damn small.

The bonus here is that although hybrids and electrics get all the press, big cars aren't standing still. Ten years ago, a sled like this would've blazed through fuel like a Saturn V. Twenty-six miles per gallon may not give the Chevy Volt nightmares, but for a 4,000-pound behemoth, it's progress.

Still, we aren't supposed to like this. We're supposed to responsibly shed mass from our driveways, ignoring that America is both 3,000 miles wide and nothing without its sense of scale. We need a shit-starting John Goodman of a car to character-act its way across our vast highways, and we need to be reminded that our grandfathers traveled on quarter-mile-long steam trains because they had to. Perspective, thy name is Dodge.

Two More Big Cars We Like

Bentley Mulsanne

The Mulsanne is a house-sized piece of crusty British nationalism that represents the ultimate evolution of the big car. If you have $287,595 to burn (and don't we all?), you can treat yourself to a 505-hp, 752-foot-pound twin-turbo V-8 with a leather interior that once lived on 17 separate bulls. Patrician, 18 feet long, and wholly unnecessary. And the first thing you buy when you win the lottery.

Infiniti QX56

There are a lot of things the QX56 is not: subtle. Thrifty. Necessary. Unless you've got six kids and a boat to haul — and have to scale Everest. In its element, however, this tech-laden, 400-hp 7-speed makes sense. Tows 8,500 pounds. Cockpit that'd shame a Gulfstream. It honks when your tires are full. Given all that, the $58,800 sticker seems like a bargain.

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